


Seven Minutes in Hell

by stardustpaths



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Kiss, Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, Magical Realism, Speed Dating, Witch Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustpaths/pseuds/stardustpaths
Summary: A poster next to the door seemed to mock Dean, with its bright pink letters SPEED DATING and LOVE AT FIRST SIT laughing in his face. Right. Like you could actually find love after talking to someone for seven minutes. One night stand? Sure. But love was a whole different thing.Speed dates usually last from three to eight minutes. This one took Dean and Cas almost twenty four hours.Written for a prompt: Charlie forces Dean to go speed dating, where he meets Cas and it turns out neither of them wants to be there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I thought to myself 'Uhhh I want to write something short and easy, but I have no idea what'. I ended up asking for prompts and [Ginny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/komodobits) gave me this wonderful idea that I was very excited about from the moment I saw it. And then it took me only 22 months to actually get my short and easy thing done (to be honest that seems fitting, since this fic is essentially about the longest speed date ever). I guess I played myself?
> 
> First off, I want to thank Ginny, because without her idea this fic would never exist. I also want to thank [Bexy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inplayruns/) who was an enormous help and support and made sure my writing was actually readable. It's always such a pleasure to work with you <3 And last but not least, I want to thank Julia, Hannah, and Vivian, who were kind enough to read the fic and give me their thoughts on various stages of its completion. You guys rock!
> 
> Anyway, I'm so happy to finally be able to post the story that lived in my head for the past two years, and I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> [tumblr post](https://stardustpaths.tumblr.com/post/168559529468)

Dean took a deep breath, stopping before the entrance to the club. A faint hum of music and muffled voices came from inside, breaking the silence of the street. He was really going to do this, wasn’t he? He was going to go in there, smile, turn on the charm, and pretend this whole thing wasn’t a fucking circus for desperate people who ran out of all other options. He obviously wasn’t one of them, but he still ended up here, because Charlie was the worst. Her voice rang in his head again. _It’s gonna be fun, Dean,_ she’d said. _People do this all the time, Dean,_ and _I’m gonna slip rapid hair growth potion into your coffee if you don’t go, Dean._ In the end, it had been impossible not to say yes, as Dean wasn’t too thrilled to turn into a Wookiee in the foreseeable future. Charlie’s threats were never empty, and he’d found that out the hard way, when she’d posted photos of him in a snuggie all over Facebook. There was no need to repeat the mistakes of the past.

A couple of heart-shaped butterflies broke away from the poster next to the door, turning into glitter a few seconds later. Dean gave the poster an offended glare. It seemed to mock him, with its bright pink letters SPEED DATING and LOVE AT FIRST SIT laughing in his face. Right. Like you could actually find love after talking to someone for a couple of minutes. One night stand? Sure. But love was a whole different thing.

And okay, there was a faint whisper in the back of his mind that maybe he was wrong, maybe he was going to meet someone who would make this whole charade worth it, but he stomped that voice down right away, before he could embarrass himself any further.

The phone buzzed in his pocket, a new message from Charlie flashing on the screen.

_are u there yet?_

Dean huffed. It looked like she planned to keep close tabs on him.

_yeah, just let me suffer in peace, ok? and i’m never getting drunk with you again bradbury_

To be honest, it was his own fault. A few drinks too many and he’d been whining right into Charlie’s ear how much he missed waking up next to someone every morning, missed someone just being around. He wanted to hide in a fucking cave at the thought that those words had ever left his mouth.

_i have this disease, you know, it’s called caring about people. also you didn’t have to go, i’d totally enjoy you cosplaying chewie at our next con_

Dean grimaced. _i hate you and your potions_

_lmk how it goes!_

He sighed, putting the phone back in his pocket. What mistakes had he made in the past life to end up with a friend like her? It must’ve been something truly horrible.

A group of girls moved past him, laughing, and disappeared inside. Dean moved his weight from one leg to the other, feeling like an idiot. He was standing there and sulking like a baby, as if it could save him from that stupid event. Everyone else was just rolling with it. Good thing no one he knew could see him right now. With another sigh, he pushed the door, following the girls. The street was getting too cold anyway.

As soon as he was inside, a small blonde greeted him with a cheerful expression, and handed him several papers: a list of participants to sign, a comment card, and the standard pamphlet about all forms of love magic being illegal. “Do you need me to explain how everything works?” she asked, raising her voice just enough to make sure he could hear her over the low beat of music.

Dean sent her a quick smile. “No, thank you,” he said, writing his name down. He already knew the basics. It boiled down to surviving fifteen seven-minute conversations with a bunch of strangers, and then he would be free. It sounded easy enough, but the whole thing was so pointless that even that wasn’t making it any better.

“Just remember, no love spells or potions!” The woman pointed at the pamphlet, her cheerful expression unwavering. “We don’t want any incidents, and you can rest assured there are protections in place that will notify us right away if anyone breaks the law.”

Dean nodded, only half paying attention, as he stepped further inside. The lights in the club were dimmed, with various protection sigils on the walls giving off a faint purple glow. There were still a few minutes left before the event started, which meant just enough time to get a drink first. He beelined to the bar, walking past the small crowd gathered near the lounge area. Many people were already talking with each other, visibly relaxed. How did they even do that? Acting like adults, holding a conversation right before they dissolved into awkward flirting and judging each other? Dean had no idea.

The bartender gave him a look too close to pity for his comfort. “First time?” she asked.

“That obvious, huh?” Dean smiled tightly. “Do you have anything for a bad case of second thoughts?”

She started moving around the bar, pouring from a few different bottles into a cocktail shaker. “One _Oh god, what am I doing here?_ coming right up.”

Dean snorted. Everything would be so much easier if he could just stay there, flirt with her until the end of her shift, and then maybe take her home. He remembered how to do that. At least he hoped he did; it’d been a while. But that would never lead to anything more than a few nights together in the best case scenario, and he didn’t really want that, not anymore. Anyway, this thing Charlie had gotten him into was different. These people might’ve been desperate, but they had _expectations._ He hated dealing with expectations. Sure, he had lots of practice pretending to be an interesting guy, not someone who spends half of his free time in sweatpants, arguing with his friends about Star Trek headcanons, but it still left him internally screaming.

“It’s not that bad, you know?” the bartender added, pushing the drink his way. There was a small storm cloud hovering over the glass, alcoholic rain falling down into thick liquid inside. Fitting. “Some people do find each other this way.”

Dean just downed his drink in an answer.

The music volume dropped so that people could talk freely, and the blonde woman from before asked everyone to take their seats, signaling the near start of the event. Grimacing, Dean paid the bartender and shuffled in the direction of the lounge with resignation. No one looked his type. Or like he could be _their_ type. And okay, looks weren’t everything, but he was pretty good at first impressions. Right now his first impression was that this evening was going to fucking suck.

When the first bell rang Dean found himself sitting across from a stylish businesswoman named Kali, who looked like she could kill him with one glance if he gave her a wrong answer. He wasn’t sure whether it was the incredibly red lipstick, or just her general aura of _I will crush you, little man_ , but seven minutes with her felt like the worst oral exam he’d ever had. How the hell was he supposed to know anything about profitable stock market investments or Qatar's magical artifacts export policy? He took a deep sigh of relief as soon as he changed tables, amazed he hadn’t started stammering halfway through.

The second date was a guy named Aaron, who seemed cute until he started talking about his _golem_ and Dean couldn’t tell whether it was an allusion to his dick or if the guy had a real life golem at his place. Dean didn’t dare ask, and to be honest both options weren’t exactly encouraging.

Then there was Becky, a lively girl who kept talking about fanfiction. It would be a lie to say Dean hadn’t been reading anything himself, but she was so intense that he suspected sharing any opinions with her would lead to an actual fistfight. Not to mention the first thing she’d said to him had been that he was too short for her. He’d barely stopped himself from an offended snort. He wasn’t _short_ , thank you very much.

The next few people blurred together, as Dean started to wonder if maybe escaping the club was worth whatever Charlie would do to him when she discovered he’d bailed. It wasn’t even that everyone he’d met had been _that_ terrible, it was just that with every new person the feeling that he didn’t want to be there grew stronger, until it became a persistent thought in his head.

After the seventh person he talked to, he promised himself he was going to endure one more mini-date and then bail, no matter the consequences. Who knows, maybe surviving over the half of the provided torment would be enough to appease Charlie. He approached his last date with a smile that was almost genuine. Only seven more minutes and he was going to be free from this hell.

The man at the table didn’t return the smile, and Dean could swear he caught him rolling his eyes. What a dick. Dean sat down anyway, eyeing the stranger critically. He had over a week’s worth of dark stubble on his face, messy hair, and a creased shirt that looked like it had never seen an iron. This was the first person Dean had seen at this damn thing who didn’t seem to care at all about first impressions.

“Hi, uh… Casteel,” he started, glancing at the name tag of his date. What the hell was that name, anyway?

The man sighed. “It’s _Castiel_. But you can just call me Cas. I don’t know why I even bothered writing my full name, it’s not like I’m going to see any of you ever again.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, man?” What could’ve been a better ending to this whole fiasco than his last date turning out to be a total asshole? Not that Dean wanted to see any of those people again, but he wasn’t running around saying it. “Do you wanna spend the next seven minutes in silence, given you’re not even pretending to be interested?”

Cas gave him a weird look. “I’m not planning on getting bored to death, Dean. I was just stating a fact.”

Stating a fact. Right. Maybe it would’ve been better if Dean had left the club after the seventh person. Getting up now felt wrong though, so he could as well play along. “Sure. Let's get on with it then, mister just-stating-a-fact. What do you like to do in your free time?” A pretty standard question, you can’t go wrong with that.

“You don’t want to know,” Cas said gravely. Okay, you _can_ go wrong with that. What the fuck? Was he a serial killer or something?

“Humor me.” Dean shrugged. “We’re stuck with each other and _you_ wanted to talk.”

Cas rolled his head. “Fine. I knit. I take care of my cat. I go for runs. I read a lot of old dusty tomes in ancient languages. I create new spells. Sometimes I hex people who piss me off.”

“You’re a witch.” _That_ was what Castiel didn’t want to share? Honestly? That stopped being a shocker a few centuries ago. Nowadays most people used one form of magic or another, and even though that wasn’t enough to make anyone a witch, it was something inarguably interwoven to their lives. On the other hand, maybe the hexing part should’ve bothered Dean more.

Cas watched him carefully. “Yes.” Was this some kind of test? Because okay, Dean didn’t know that much about witches. Now that he was thinking about it, sometimes he saw people on the news going on wild rants how all witches sold their souls to the devil, but anyone with any common sense at all knew it was bullshit. Did Castiel think Dean would drench him in holy water and start an exorcism?

“Well, I design cars,” Dean said, unable to think of anything better. His usual thing was just figuring out where to put sigils in his designs, which didn’t require that much knowledge of other areas of magic.

Cas huffed. “Being a witch is not my _job_ , I work at a library.”

Great. Dean was making an idiot of himself, wasn’t he? “Yeah, of course. I knew that,” he said, nodding. And just to make everything clear he added, “I mean the part that it isn’t your job. Not the part about the library. That would be creepy.”

“It would.” Cas actually smiled. “So. You. Any interesting hobbies?”

Castiel probably wouldn’t care, but Dean still wasn’t going to share the thing about sweatpants and Star Trek. “Uhm. I like LARPing? A friend took me with her a few years ago and I’ve caught the bug.” That would do. Nerdy, but presentable enough. Wait. Why was he even trying to make a good impression?

“You like roleplaying? What is your character like?” Cas focused on him with real interest now, and Dean didn’t know what to do with it.

“He’s...” He rubbed his neck, not sure what to say. People outside of Moondoor usually didn’t care to ask. Or thought he was a weird loser as soon as he started talking about it. “He’s the queen’s handmaiden. Or, well, he _was_. Now he’s on the run with her. The Shadow Orcs took over the kingdom, and she’s not technically the queen anymore. But he’s very loyal, so he’s sticking with her. They became friends and he’d give his life for her no matter what.” At this point it was hard to tell how much of his character’s story was an act, and how much it was his friendship with Charlie bleeding through. He wasn’t complaining, though. They had fun, and it was all that mattered.

“I honestly expected you to be some hot knight killing his enemies left and right, but this is so much… nicer,” Cas said, giving him a long look. It sounded weirdly soft.

“You think I’m hot?” Cas still wasn’t interested, right?

Castiel shrugged, like it was obvious. “You are.” Was this another fact he decided to state?

Dean stared for a moment. “Um. Thanks?” It wasn’t like people never complimented him. He just hadn’t expected to hear it from a man who started the conversation with making it clear he had no desire to see Dean again. A man who wasn’t so bad to look at himself, if Dean had to be honest. That whole disheveled look was good on him, even if it put Dean off at first. Despite Cas’ dickishness, he had kind eyes, and his hands were nice and big, and... that wasn’t a good route to go down. Dean shifted in his seat. “Let’s talk about something else. Favorite food?”

Castiel scrunched his nose, thinking. “Pickles with peanut butter. Actually, anything with peanut butter. And pizza with melted chocolate. Or honey.”

Dean gagged. “Man, that’s so _gross_. You’re shitting me, right?”

“No, I genuinely like those things.”

“Do I even wanna know what you cook? I bet it’s even worse.”

“I don’t cook.” Castiel frowned. “My sisters tried to remedy that many times, but it seems I’m a lost cause, and all my talent went into magic.” He paused. “Though there _is_ one cake that I can always make perfect for some reason: Better Than Sex.”

Before Dean realized it was the name of the cake, for a second he was sure Cas had started flirting with him. “Ha. I need to try it to believe that,” he blurted out, then quickly corrected himself, “I mean. If we ever meet again. Which we won’t.”

Cas glanced at the table. “What about you, do you have siblings?”

That was something Dean could always talk about. “I have a brother, Sam,” he said with a smile. “He’s great. He’s a public defender, you know? And he’s _so good_ at it.” Being low-key psychic probably helped with that. “He could work for some big law firm, but he just wants to help people.” Growing up, he and Sam had been almost inseparable, despite the age difference. Dean had felt responsible for his brother, not wanting to leave everything on his mom’s head after their father had left them. And even though they didn’t spend as much time together now, they stayed close, and Dean was so damn happy to have Sam in his life.

“You seem to be very proud of him.” Cas smiled. Dean pointedly ignored the way Cas’ smile made him warm inside.

“I am.” He nodded. At some point talking to Cas had become… pleasant? What the fuck. “You said you have sisters? How many?”

“Three. My twin Hannah, older sister Anna, and younger sister Hael,” Castiel listed. “Things were often very… tumultuous growing up, but I love them a great deal.”

“A twin?” Dean grinned. “Hey, I always wanted to know if twins for real have a psychic connection with each other. Is that true?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to share the deepest twin secrets with you, Dean,” he stated in a voice so serious that Dean couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Fine. You’re a witch, so I’m guessing you’re messaging each other through owls or some other shit anyway,” he said, half-joking. They _weren’t_ using owls, were they?

“No, we already discovered texting exists.” Castiel seemed very unimpressed, looking at the time on his phone. Right. Dean almost forgot they only had seven minutes and then they were done.

“Uh, I’m curious.” He swallowed. “Cas, you don’t look like you _actually_ want to be here. So why speed dating?” Cas wasn’t there just to torment him, so there had to be a reason.

Castiel sighed. “I lost a bet. Why are _you_ here?” he deflected. “Looking for the love of your life?”

That wasn’t a question Dean had expected. He _wasn’t_ looking for love, that hadn’t changed, but he couldn't deny a sad pang somewhere in his chest, knowing that this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He half-smiled, collecting himself. “Nah, I don’t believe in that shit. Trying to find love _here_? Sounds like a bad joke. But my friend made me come, and I couldn't say no.” Should he tell Cas about his plan? Why not? It’s not like he was going to judge. “I… um. To be honest, I was planning to leave when we’re done with our seven minutes.” He paused. “What was the bet about?” Dean was never going to see Castiel again, so he wanted to know that, at least.

Cas studied him for a moment. “I could tell you... if you take me with you.”

“What?” Dean asked, loud enough that a few people looked their way. “What happened to _we’re never going to see each other again_?” he continued, doing his best to keep his voice at a normal level. His stupid heart sped up, drumming wildly against his ribs. Maybe this didn’t have to end just yet after all.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Castiel shrugged. “Maybe I like you. A little. But if you don’t want me to come, no hard feelings.”

Dean snorted. “You’re weird, you know?” Did he want Cas to go with him? Yes. Yes, he did. Maybe he’d lost his mind, but he did. “Well. I guess why not?”

“Great.” Cas nodded, more to himself than to Dean. “We have about a minute before our time is up, but I don’t think there’s any point in waiting, considering we’re both leaving.”

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.” He stood up. They were going to do it. They were going to run away from a speed dating event together. Charlie was going to laugh at him for the rest of his life. And the strange thing was, he felt it was worth it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

To tell the truth, their escape turned out to be rather anticlimactic. Nobody could force them to stay, so after a moment of confusion and a reminder that the event provided no refunds, they were free to go. Dean took a big gulp of fresh air as soon as they stepped outside, like a prisoner taking his first steps after his release. He knew he was being overdramatic, but hey, a little bit of drama hadn’t killed anyone yet. He turned to Cas, grinning.

“So, what now?” he asked. Before, his plan was to go home, watch some old reruns of Dr. Sexy, and maybe text Charlie to complain about speed dating. But Castiel being there with him changed everything. Not to mention there were no rules anymore, no guidelines, no defined time they had to spend together. Dean had no idea what was going to happen next and for some reason it filled him with child-like joy. It was also closer to a real date territory and a little bit scary, but he would never say that out loud.

Cas looked around, a smile barely visible on his face. It wasn’t completely dark yet, but the sun had disappeared long ago, leaving the streets in deep shadows. “Let’s just walk,” he said, putting on a dark leather jacket that Dean hadn’t noticed before. A perfect fit, emphasizing the lines of his body in a way that totally didn’t make Dean stare. He may have allowed himself an appreciative glance, though.

“There’s this great ice cream place nearby. They’re usually open late,” he suggested when they moved from the club’s entrance, their steps echoing off the walls. He wasn’t sure if Cas had any expectations at all, but ice cream seemed to be a good start. “Is this a date, Cas?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said with a thoughtful expression, tilting his head to the side. “Technically, we just escaped one. But ice cream sounds good.” That hadn’t cleared up anything at all, but at least now Dean knew they both had no idea what they were doing. Maybe it would be best to simply allow this weird thing to go wherever it was heading, without overthinking it. Dean had never been good at not overthinking things, but there had to be a first time for everything, right?

“Ice cream it is.” He nodded, doing his best to focus on the present. They turned around the corner, reaching one of the main streets, which was far more crowded than the quiet alley they’d just left. It helped in some way, anchoring him to reality. The thing that mattered was that he and Cas wanted to spend time together. The rest was just details. “Now, back to the important stuff, I wanna hear everything about your bet.”

“There isn’t much to tell, to be honest.” Cas’ face turned sour so fast it looked comical. “I went out with friends, we got drunk and somehow ended up by the canal in the park. Someone said I wouldn’t be able to get to the other side not using magic, without getting wet. I was certain I could. We made a bet.” He fell silent for a moment, glaring at the sidewalk beneath his feet. “I want to make it clear that I _was_ right about the distance not being too much for me. But it’d rained before, everything was muddy, and I was drunk, so I only managed to touch the other bank for a second and then slipped into the water, getting completely drenched.”

Dean decided to be merciful and leave that without a comment. He was sure Castiel’s friends had it already covered. He looked the other way, smiling to himself. “And why speed dating?” There were thousands of ways to pay for a lost bet and this one was among more unconventional ones.

Cas shrugged, his face more neutral now. “They knew I’d hate it. It’s rather mild considering Uriel proposed they should take my wet clothes with them and make me go home naked.”

“Oh,” Dean choked out. The last thing he needed was imagining that, but it was too late. Even with Cas fully clothed he could picture the lean muscles underneath, his thick thighs and a nicely shaped butt. He must’ve looked fantastic without all the layers covering him. “Aren’t you breaking the rules by leaving with me?” he asked, before the thought gave him an aneurysm.

“They said I have to _go_ speed dating.” Castiel gave him a smug smile, his eyes shining. “No one said I’m supposed to stay till the end.”

Dean huffed. “You lasted longer than I would if Charlie didn’t expect me to stay.”

“I wasn’t going to leave without a good reason. Why give them the satisfaction?” Cas stated, as his gaze snapped to the street lamps and the tiny balls of light dancing around them. Dean could see all the little details of his face again, including eye crinkles and a small scar on his upper lip. Somehow it made Castiel seem more like a real person, not just a random date.

“You said your friend made you go speed dating. Was that a punishment too?” Castiel asked, tearing his eyes from the warm glow of the lanterns and focusing back on Dean. The question was casual, but something turned in Dean’s stomach anyway. It had been bad enough he’d spilled his guts to Charlie; nobody else needed to know how lonely he’d been feeling lately. Cas had been honest with him, and maybe he should offer the same in return, but this was far more personal than losing a drunken bet. So why the hell was there a part of him that wanted to share? They’d known each other less than half an hour for fuck’s sake. It made no sense.

“More like a result of misguided concern.” He did his best to sound dismissive. “And once she sets her mind on something, there’s no way to talk her out of it. She _threatened_ me.” That, at least, was completely true.

“It seems we both fell prey to our friends in some way,” Castiel said, his voice somewhere between serious and joking. He didn’t seem to expect any details and Dean was thankful for that. “But at least we’ve met each other in the process, so there’s still a chance to salvage the evening.” He had a point. Dean was never going to admit that to Charlie, but maybe forcing him to go speed dating wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever had.

They reached the ice cream place not much later, falling into easy banter on the way there. Connecting with people had never been hard for Dean, but for some reason with Castiel it felt even more natural. He’d achieved that kind of effortless flow with just a handful of close friends, and while it was way too early to add Cas to that list, he couldn’t deny there was already some kind of connection between them. It felt bizarre, but in a good way.

Cas ordered some ridiculous mix of cheese, bacon, chocolate and vanilla scoops, topped with whipped cream and the kind of rainbow sprinkles that made actual little rainbows appear in the air. It made Dean’s double apple pie ice cream seem pale in comparison. Not surprising, given Cas had already admitted committing such crimes as honey on pizza and pickles with peanut butter. Whether Cas had awful taste or not, Dean couldn’t stop himself from smiling. There was something endearing in watching Castiel devour the monstrous dessert half the size of his face. How he managed not to make a mess of himself remained a mystery.

Walking aimlessly, ice cream cones in their hands, they drifted away from the main streets again. Dean barely noticed where they were going now, too engrossed in listening to Castiel. He knew they’d only scratched the surface of getting to know each other, but almost everything he’d learned so far made him warm and fuzzy inside. Cas was a little weird and sometimes direct to the point of being an asshole, but he could also be kind and thoughtful and very passionate about the things he loved. Including disgusting food, the history of ancient spells, and Discovery Channel documentaries. Dean didn’t even know anyone could be _that_ enthusiastic about the social behavior of whales. As it turned out, Cas was.

“Dean, wait.” Castiel’s hand caught Dean’s elbow, which was so unexpected that it sent a shockwave through his body. “Let’s go there,” Cas said, jerking his head in the direction of the other side of the street.

It took some time to register what he was talking about. Dean followed his gaze to an old neon sign with a bowling pin and letters BOWL spelled right next to it. Both the bowling pin and the letter B were out though, so only the OWL part illuminated the night. The place didn’t look very distinctive, but Dean was almost sure he knew where they were. Maybe if he’d been paying any attention to their surroundings, he would’ve noticed it earlier. Maybe he would’ve even chosen another route. In any case, a little heads up would’ve been nice before ending up in front of the city’s infamous haunted bowling alley.

Dean knew the story. Everyone did. It wasn’t a secret, even if most people tended to keep their distance. The alley hadn’t always been haunted, but since the death of its previous owner, it had become a hotspot for the local ghost population. It probably had something to do with the fact that Ms. Moseley, who’d taken over the place after her husband's demise, was a medium, but why the hell ghosts had decided bowling was their new favorite thing was beyond Dean.

“Are you sure?” he asked, scratching the back of his head, his eyebrows raised. This wasn’t anywhere near the direction he expected their whatever-it-was to go.

Cas shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like we _have to_ be dead to enter. As far as I know living people are still welcome. And we don’t have any other plans anyway.”

“Fine,” Dean agreed after a moment of silence. Spending the evening with a bunch of ghosts wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time; after all, people avoided them for a reason. The temperature always dropped too low around them, and they were inclined to pass through people. Sometimes it was an accident, but ghosts also just loved pissing people off. That said, if Castiel thought the two of them could have fun, maybe it wasn’t going to be that bad. “But if anyone fucks up our game with telekinesis or some other shit, it’s gonna be your fault.”

“You’re just afraid you won’t be able to beat me.” Castiel grinned, turning to Dean as he crossed the street. “I’m an exceptionally good bowler.”

The bowling alley looked surprisingly cozy inside, even with over two thirds of the patrons floating around, their too pale faces well-lit by the warm lights placed all over the room. There was none of that _haunted_ vibe shown in horror movies, except for the obvious part where most people present were long dead. Actually, the most disturbing thing about the place Dean could think of was the terrible country music coming through the speakers.

That is until he saw a familiar face in the small crowd.

When Dean’s father had abandoned their family, Mary Campbell had been left on her own with two small boys to take care of. It hadn’t been an easy time, but Mary had had good friends who had offered to help in any way they could. The Harvelles had turned out to be true lifesavers and over the years the families had grown close. Jo, who was a few years younger than Sam and Dean, had become like a sister to them, and the Harvelles’ bar was their second home. To this day, Dean felt like the Roadhouse was a safe haven he could always go back to. And the last thing he’d expected tonight was meeting a ghost of a former long-time employee of the bar in a haunted bowling alley.

“Is everything okay?” Castiel asked, sudden worry in his voice. “If this is too much, we can--”

“No, it’s not that,” Dean interrupted him, shaking his head. His eyes were fixed on the distinct figure of Ash Miles, who had died in an accident a couple of years back. He must’ve noticed Dean too, because he nudged the girl he was talking to, and they both moved in his direction. “I just didn’t expect to see anyone I know here.”

Considering all the dead people Dean could’ve ran into, this was one of the best case scenarios. Dean wouldn’t say he and Ash had ever been close, but Ash had been a part of the Roadhouse for years, and Dean had always liked him a lot. It was still fucking awkward though. Not to mention Dean would’ve preferred not running into _anyone_ while he was trying to figure out what he and Cas were doing. At least the risk of Ash spreading gossip was close to nonexistent, unless he decided to haunt the Roadhouse instead of this place just so all their mutual friends could get a fresh update on Dean’s love life.

“Dean!” Ash sent him a lazy smile, throwing back his ghostly mullet. He didn’t seem to be surprised by the encounter at all. “Long time no see!”

Dean opened and closed his mouth, at a loss. What was he supposed to say? _My condolences_? _It sucks that you’re dead_? Before he managed to find the right words, Castiel spoke, his brow furrowed. “I imagine it must be hard to keep in touch with dead people.”

That made Dean snort. “Yeah, especially when _someone_ doesn’t even let you know he’s still around.”

Ash nodded with the most solemn expression Dean had ever seen on his face. “I suppose that’s fair. Haven’t really talked with anyone about this... development. Turns out ghosts tend to stick together and keep to themselves, you know? But hey, you’re here, so let’s talk. Anyway, this is my girlfriend Victoria. We met at the cemetery a few months ago,” he said, like it was the most natural thing.

Victoria smiled, looking between Dean and Cas. “It’s nice to meet you. Not that many living people hang out with the two of us here. Mostly it’s just my friend Annie, but she’s busy tonight.”

“So, who did you bring with you, Dean?” Ash asked, focusing on Castiel. Was there a point in explaining that technically it was Cas who made Dean come there? Probably not.

“This is my…” Dean started without thinking. His _what_? He had no idea how to finish the sentence. This was exactly the thing he wanted to avoid. The universe must’ve hated him though, and now he had to think of something to say. Conveniently, his mind remained a blank slate.

“Cas Milton,” Castiel introduced himself, saving Dean from combusting on the spot. It hit him that they hadn’t even known each other’s last names. Castiel still didn’t know his. They were doing everything backwards. Or not even backwards, but in some weird convoluted order. “We’ve just met.”

“That’s right. This is Cas,” Dean picked up. “Cas, this is Ash. Family friend, I guess.” Explaining how he knew Ash without spilling his whole life story wasn’t easy either, and frankly he would have rather died than did that. Which wasn’t the best thing to think of while surrounded by ghosts. At least he hadn’t said it out loud.

“You wanna play with us?” Victoria suggested when all the introductions were done. “Ash still loses hold on the ball sometimes, but he’s improving.” If anyone asked Dean, having to relearn interacting with material objects made the whole becoming a ghost thing very unappealing. For some reason there were people who did it anyway. Dean was never going to understand them.

“Sure, why not.” He shrugged, glancing at Cas to see if he was okay with it. Castiel just gave him an amused look in response. There was no reason not to make the evening even weirder, right? Charlie would lose it if she heard he and Cas had spent their not-exactly-a-date bowling with a dead guy and his just-as-dead girlfriend.

They paid for an hour to start, deciding to see how it would go from there, and then moved off to an empty lane in the far corner of the bowling alley. Dean could swear the country music had gotten louder in the last couple of minutes, and he did his best to tune it out. He didn’t need any of those songs stuck in his head for the next month. It would be almost as embarrassing as that one time Sam had caught him humming “Call Me Maybe” while washing his car.

“Why did you stay, Ash?” he asked, tying his bowling shoes. He wasn’t sure whether it was okay to ask ghosts about stuff like that, but Ash seemed pretty chill about being dead so it probably wouldn’t hurt. And it was better than allowing Ash or Victoria to continue the conversation with questions about him and Cas he had no answers to.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Ash said dismissively, trying out one of the bowling balls. “I didn’t dig this whole afterlife thing. I like this plane of existence. And I still have a couple centuries left before I get anywhere near vengeful and it’s the time to leave for good. Can’t wait to see the new tech people come up with.”

Dean huffed. He could see Ash and Charlie getting along. Maybe he should introduce them. Or maybe not - they would probably take over the internet together. Dean didn’t even want to imagine Charlie with the power to send his snuggie photos to billions of people all over the world.

“Doesn’t it get tiring, to live for so long?” Cas asked, doing something weird with his shoelaces. Apparently the guy didn’t even tie his shoes in a regular way. Dean tried very hard not to get distracted by Castiel’s long fingers, but his treacherous mind ignored all his efforts, supplying him with visions of those fingers touching him, moving across his skin, pressing down in all the right spots. Suddenly his mouth had gone completely dry.

“It’s certainly not for everyone, but there are many enjoyable aspects of becoming a ghost,” Victoria said, oblivious to Dean’s suffering. “It’s been almost a hundred years for me and I still haven’t got tired of haunting all the disgusting men in this city until they learn how to treat women with respect.”

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas looked at Dean with confusion, his eyebrows knit. Shit. Witches couldn’t read minds, right? He’d thought about Castiel naked before and Cas hadn’t reacted, so probably not. He was safe, excluding his own thoughts.

Dean took a deep breath. Cas was way too perceptive. “Yeah. Great. I’m great.” He had to get his act together. Not that a haunted bowling alley was a good place for dirty thoughts in any circumstances, but his mind had to have the worst timing ever. He still couldn’t tell for sure whether Castiel had any plans to ever see him again. And if this one meeting was all they ever had, he was going to be extremely disappointed even without adding sex to the equation.

“Your ears are getting red.” There was a note of amusement in Castiel’s voice now, and part of Dean wanted to punch him. How dared he mock Dean’s inner struggle he most likely had no idea was happening? Unbelievable.

“I’m just excited about bowling, okay?” Dean mumbled defensively. The plan was to enjoy the evening wherever it goes, and he was going to stick to it. At the moment that meant bowling. Maybe later it would mean something else.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The ghosts turned out to be good company, and the first hour quickly morphed into another, even though Dean and Ash fell far behind at the very beginning and never recovered. Ash had obvious problems with his grip, and Dean wasn’t able to focus no matter how hard he tried. He could swear Cas was messing with him on purpose. He must’ve been, with the way his nose crinkled when he laughed, or the way his voice dropped even lower after a few beers. It was impossible not to think about kissing him, and at some point Dean stopped fighting it.

God. He was so fucked.

They finished around midnight, Victoria ultimately winning with a pleased smile on her face. Good thing she was already dead, because Dean doubted anyone alive could survive Castiel’s murderous glare. He made a mental note to never get on Cas’ bad side, unless he wanted his soul to depart from Earth with a one-way ticket.

Though maybe moving to another dimension wouldn’t be a terrible idea, considering Dean somehow ended up promising to visit Ash again. Hanging out with ghosts was nowhere near as bad as he’d imagined, but he still kicked himself for making that promise. Ash and Victoria would ask about Cas, and depending on how the rest of the night went, Dean might not want to deal with the answers.

But that was an internal crisis for another time.

“Ghosts ain’t that bad,” Dean said, more to himself than to Castiel, when they were back on the street. “Who would’ve thought.” Definitely not all the people avoiding them. Which was most people.

Cas mumbled something about heartless monsters cheating at bowling, then added with a sigh, “They’re people too, Dean. Just more… dead.”

Dean snorted. “Thanks for sharing your deepest thoughts, Cas.”

The streets were quiet as they walked, the distant hum of cars closer to the city center barely audible. Cas shrugged, hands in his pockets. “The living don’t like them because they’re a reminder that the life we know is going to end someday. Even if someone stays, it’s not the same. It’s easier to forget about our inevitable death when ghosts aren’t around. But that way of thinking led to alienating them and forgetting they’re still people with feelings and dreams, just like us. Which is cruel and unacceptable in my opinion.”

“I… guess you’re right,” Dean muttered, not sure what to say. He’d never given it much thought and Cas caught him off guard. He had to be making a wonderful impression at the moment.

“Was that deep enough for you?” Cas smirked.

Fine, maybe Dean had walked right into that one. “You’re a dick.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Somehow Castiel managed to fuck with him and be insightful at the same time. Amazing.

Dean held back a yawn, which reminded him that going to bed at a reasonable hour was a thing, even if it apparently wasn’t his thing. “Tired?” he asked, worrying Cas might have a different opinion on the matter. It was barely past midnight on a Saturday, and he assumed neither of them had to worry about getting up early in the morning, but in case he was wrong, he didn’t want to keep Cas up.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

The teasing tone of his voice made Dean smile. “Not yet.”

“Good. The night is perfect for a walk, it’d be a shame to waste it.”

Dean couldn’t disagree, even though they already spent quite a while wandering around the city before they went bowling. The sky was cloudless, and the air smelled like late spring - fresh, with a note of jasmine from somewhere nearby. It could have been a little warmer, but he wasn’t going to complain. And well, right now he probably would take a walk in a snowstorm, as long as Cas would be up for it.

They took their time drifting through the streets, talking about anything that came to mind, from the latest achievements of the local baseball team to the best way of getting rid of mold without using magic. The conversation felt different than before, their voices quieter, the silences longer, but still comfortable. Maybe it was the late hour talking, but to Dean it seemed almost like a dream. Moonlit sidewalks and a cute guy were already there; all that was missing was a dash of mystical fog and “Time of My Life” playing faintly in the distance. And maybe a unicorn.

No mythical creatures appeared though, and Dean abandoned that train of thought when they reached a wooden playground, nestled among the trees on the edge of a park. It looked like a whole miniature kingdom with its towers and bridges vaguely outlined in the darkness. What caught Dean’s attention was a low zipline hanging over a shallow, sandy pit, just waiting for some kid to go on an imaginary adventure.

“Man, I used to love those when I was little.” He nodded towards the zipline, not hiding the nostalgia in his voice. Back then no one had cared as much about playground safety. He remembered holding on very tight during every ride, trying not to fall. The danger had never stopped him and Sam, though. The ziplines had been too much fun, like being a superhero in real life.

Castiel’s teeth flashed in a grin. “We should try it.”

“It’s a playground.” Dean eyed the place unconvinced.

“Obviously.”

That earned Cas an eyeroll. “For children, Cas. I don’t need anyone accusing me of being a pervert.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Do you see any children here?” A valid point, but Dean wasn’t going to admit it.

“No. But what if one decides to show up just to spite me?”

Cas didn’t dignify that with an answer, marching straight for the zipline. Dean could either stand there alone like an idiot or tag along and stop whining. He rocked on his feet a few times, and then followed Castiel with a groan. “Fine, have it your way.”

The zipline was obviously not big enough for a grown man but Castiel somehow made it work, squatting on the tiny seat. He swooshed past Dean with a determined expression, his eyebrows knit and lips pressed together, like it was something more than a toy for children. The sight made Dean bubble with joy, and he laughed out loud. To think that a few hours ago, Cas had been just a random stranger in a creased shirt, standing between him and freedom. Dean was incredibly glad he hadn’t left before the eighth date. The thought of being so close to not meeting Cas at all was surprisingly upsetting.

He almost told that to Castiel when the guy came back, but by that time the words seemed dumb and cheesy. Dean wasn’t good with words anyway. Instead he gave Cas a playful shoulder bump and took the rope from him, trying to figure out how the hell to balance his whole body on the seat the way Castiel just did.

“I used to pretend I was Batman, swooping in to save my city,” he grunted, his grip firm on the rope. “Sammy refused to play Robin after he turned eight or so.” One push with his feet and he was moving, cool air washing over his face. He barely had enough time to pull himself up and place his legs on the seat before hitting full speed. It wasn’t nearly as thrilling as it used to be, but he still yelled in excitement passing Cas.

“I didn’t take you for the dark and broody type,” Castiel shouted after him.

“Hey! Batman is awesome!” Dean protested, his ride already slowing down to a crawl. “Who’s _your_ favorite superhero, smartass?”

“Superman,” Cas replied without losing a beat.

Dean huffed. Making fun of that choice was almost too easy. “I didn’t take you for a red underwear on the outside type.”

“I said he was my favorite superhero, not that I’ve ever worn the costume,” Castiel grumbled without conviction.

“Have you?” Dean raised his eyebrows. Walking back, he wished the zipline had been longer. Maybe he should find a real one nearby, and go there with Cas sometime.

Cas seemed to be looking anywhere but his face. “…yes.”

“Who do I have to bribe to see the pictures?” Or _maybe_ he should stop making plans including a guy he just met. Why did he always had to get ahead of himself?

“That’s it.” Castiel crossed his arms. “You are not allowed to ever meet my family.”

Dean was close enough now to see the childish pout on his face. “Come on Cas, don’t we all have some embarrassing childhood photos?” he teased, moving even closer. Cas was still looking around, nowhere in particular, not meeting Dean’s eyes. Suspicious. “It’s not a childhood photo, is it?” Cas’ silence served as a confirmation and it cracked Dean up. “Dude, now I _have to_ see it.” Totally _not_ because Castiel had to look hot in that costume.

“I’m gonna turn you into a toad if you don’t shut up,” Cas muttered, finally looking Dean in the eye, his voice low. Were his cheekbones so sharp before, or was it just the way the moonlight brought them out?

Dean huffed with amusement, trying to focus. “That’s not very Clark Kent of you.” His knees felt weak, probably from the lack of sleep and the zipline ride. It must’ve been pretty late already.

“Even Superman can go to the dark side.” Cas tried to sound solemn, but there was a happy glint in his eyes, giving him away. He smelled nice, lingering traces of something herbal noticeable even after the whole night out. They were standing much closer than Dean had thought. How the hell did they end up only inches from each other?

After spending a big portion of the evening going back and forth between thinking about kissing Castiel and trying not to think about it, it seemed surreal that Cas’ lips were suddenly so close that Dean could just dip his head and touch them. His stupid heart beat loudly in his chest. Should he do it? Was Cas expecting him to? What would happen if Dean kissed him and it turned out this wasn’t what Castiel wanted at all? He would be so mad at himself if he fucked this up.

Shit, he was staring at Cas for too long without saying anything, wasn’t he?

As in confirmation Cas looked up, breaking the eye contact. “The sky is clear, come on.” He pulled Dean by the sleeve, guiding him deeper into the park. The moment had passed and Dean couldn't tell whether he was disappointed or relieved.

Castiel led them to a small, grassy hill, far enough from the street lights that the stars were clearly visible. Everything around them was almost entirely quiet, only rustling leaves and a few lone cars passing in the distance breaking the silence. It was hard to believe they were still in the middle of a city.

Cas lay down on his back, looking at Dean expectedly.

A light blow of cool wind made Dean hesitate. “Cas, it’s too cold. And the grass is probably wet.” Despite all the LARPing he did, getting him used to close encounters with muddy, damp ground, the thought of getting his nice clothes dirty made him squirm.

“Just give it a try, Dean.” Cas patted the space on his right.

Something in Cas’ voice convinced Dean, and he stretched out next to Cas with a sigh, their arms nearly touching. There was a slight bump pressing against his back, and he wasn’t wrong about the dew, plus it was cold to boot. But it couldn’t be that bad if Cas did it, right?

Cas caught his wrist. Dean’s heart seemed to stutter for a minute, before he focused on cataloging how the hand felt against his skin. A bit calloused, dry, and big. Unexpected, but nice. Then, sudden warmth spread through his whole body, the dew evaporated in delicate whiffs of steam, and even the uneven ground stopped bothering him.

“Oh. Wow. That’s useful,” he muttered, dumbfounded, his voice hoarse. In his mind witches were associated with powerful, flashy magic, not… this. Whatever Cas did felt simpler, more intimate and gentler than anything Dean ever imagined.

“I picked up a thing or two over the years.” Castiel sounded very pleased with himself.

Dean turned his head, swallowing. From this position he had a great view of Cas’ ear. “So… are there any other witches in your family?”

“No.” Cas shook his head. “It’s not just about what you do, it’s also… I’m the only one tuned into magic this way. Not even my twin has the same power. Actually, Hannah pouted for over a week after discovering this. The tea parties we threw for our toys were painfully stiff during that period.” There was a note of laughter in his voice, but also something sadder, almost melancholy.

Dean adjusted his arm, sliding his wrist out of Cas’ grasp, and catching Castiel’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, hoping the gesture would convey everything he didn’t know how to say. “How does it feel?”

Even from this angle he could see Castiel furrowing his brow, trying to find the right words.

“It’s a little like developing another sense. At first there were just small bursts of awareness, glimpses of the magic currents around me. Then, with some help, I was able to sense them at will. Imagine… imagine living in an ocean and suddenly discovering you developed a lateral line, being able to experience the water and all your surroundings like never before.”

That was rather abstract. “Hate to break it to you Cas, but I’m not a fish,” Dean pointed out, amused. “I don’t know how having a lateral line feels either.”

Castiel let out a dramatic sigh. “And here I was hoping I’d spend the night with a trout, you just lost your whole appeal to me.”

“I can sprinkle myself with lemon zest and hop on a grill if that would make you feel better.” Dean grinned.

“Just shut up and watch the stars with me, Dean,” Cas murmured, shuffling even closer.

They stayed like that, huddled together, as the moon moved above, until it hid behind the trees, leaving the dark, starry sky behind. Dean felt warm, at peace. The stars seemed to swirl in circles, releasing tendrils that reached far beyond the horizon. It had been a good evening, he thought right before his eyelids became too heavy to keep them open. He could still see the night sky, as he drifted away.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Dean registered waking up was a nasty crick in his neck, followed by unpleasant stiffness of all his joints, and a nauseating sense of vertigo. His back wasn’t too happy either, being pressed against the cold ground. Weird. Why the hell wasn’t he in his bed? This couldn’t be Moondoor, the nearest battle was weeks away. But if not Moondoor, then what?

“Hey, you two, I mean it! You can’t sleep here!” A rough voice coming from above sent a jolt of distress through Dean’s entire body. It must’ve been the reason he woke up in the first place, even though he was only now recognizing separate words as anything more than a series of jumbled growls.

“Mmph,” he tried to reply. His mouth wasn’t cooperating with him for some reason. Opening his eyes would probably help, but the world on the other side of his eyelids seemed painfully bright and unwelcoming. He wasn’t ready for a sacrifice that big. Maybe if he stayed still, the voice would just get bored and go away.

Hold on. _You two_? Why _two_?

A slight movement on Dean’s left made him realize that there was, in fact, someone snuggled up against his side, breathing right into his ear. What the fuck. Was he still dreaming? Despite the discouraging brightness he opened one eye, out of curiosity. A mop of dark hair welcomed him, forcing his half-asleep brain to supply the elusive memories.

Cas. The person next to him was Cas. The guy who’d ran away with him from a speed dating event to spend the whole night wandering around the city. Did things like that just happen to people in real life? Because seriously, if Castiel weren’t lying right there, Dean would most likely brush it all off as his mind making a poor dream attempt at a romantic comedy.

As far as he could tell, Cas was still fully asleep, completely unaware of anything happening around them. His eyes were closed, lips parted and drooling. Dean couldn’t decide whether he found it gross or wanted that mouth on his dick. Probably both. How tragic.

Wait, had he really just thought about Cas blowing him? That was it. He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near hot people before coffee, he was only going to torment himself even more than usual.

“Have you been drinking?” the voice accused, snapping Dean’s attention back to its owner. The owner who, big surprise, turned out to be a cop. Fucking great. Getting arrested was just what he and Cas needed to make their non-date truly special.

The mental image worked like a bucket of cold water. Dean sat up so fast his head started spinning again. Cas, still oblivious, only whined in protest at the loss of his Dean-shaped pillow. Well. So much for his help.

“No officer, I… we just. Fell asleep… uh. Watching stars?” Dean uttered, shaking Cas awake. Apparently his natural charm hadn’t woken up yet either. How long were they asleep anyway? The sun was up but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours. No wonder he felt like a truck had ran him over.

Cas mumbled something incomprehensible, swatting Dean’s hands away. The cop sighed, giving them both a pitiful look. “Just get out of here, okay?” he said, and walked away, like Dean hadn’t embarrassed himself for life right in front of him.

“That… certainly was a thing that happened,” Dean muttered, as the cop disappeared between the trees. His brain felt like mush. Maybe it was time to admit he’d become too old to run on next to no sleep. Charlie had been calling him a dinosaur since he passed thirty, but now he was finally living up to the name.

“Certainly.” Cas sat up, combing a hand through his tousled hair. A few blades of grass fell to the ground. Dean wasn’t sure Castiel even knew what exactly he was talking about, but he didn’t seem to care, squinting at the bright blue sky. “I would kill for coffee right now.”

“Not an early morning person, huh?” Dean stretched, wincing as his joints protested. It looked like Cas’ magic didn’t save him from the pains of falling asleep on the ground. And teasing Cas aside, he would also do a lot for a large cup of coffee. Or for a sip of one of those weird energy potions Sam used to drink when he’d still been in school. They tasted like hell, but were strong enough to wake up a dead body. Probably literally.

Cas grimaced. “If I’m up before noon on a day off, the world must be ending.” His eyes looked more alert now, but he still had an expression of an unhappy bear woken up in the middle of hibernating. Not endearing at all, Dean told himself, as Castiel stood up, pulling his shirt in a futile attempt to straighten it out.

Looking at him, Dean wondered for a thousandth time whether Cas had any plans to stay in touch. The morning brought back all the doubts forgotten somewhere in between getting crushed in bowling and falling asleep with Cas by his side. At this point a scenario in which Castiel wouldn’t want contact in the future seemed unlikely, but it wasn’t like they had discussed it.

He should just ask. And he would. As soon as they both had something to eat.

“What would you say to breakfast before a giant asteroid hits our planet?” he suggested, hoping it wouldn’t sound too awkward. And no, he wasn’t running away from making things clear with Cas. He totally wasn’t, no matter what the tiny voice in his head accused him of.

The proposition made Cas grin. “I always wanted to die with a bunch of pancakes stuffed in my mouth.”

Dean snorted, choosing not to analyze how relieved that answer made him feel.

The day grew warmer by the minute, cool wind from last night replaced by a light breeze. An earthy smell of grass spread in the air, accompanied by a faint, sweet scent coming from flowerbeds in another part of the park. Birds chirped in the leafy tree crowns. Despite the rude awakening, it was a perfect morning. The only thing missing was a good place to eat.

As it turned out, finding a good place to eat before six a.m. was easier said than done. By the time they reached a diner that was miraculously both open and didn’t look like a biological threat, Dean had both developed a gaping black hole in his stomach, and started contemplating cannibalism. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, but any date in this century sounded doubtful.

Castiel appeared to be just as hungry. He beelined to the first booth he saw, and pored over the menu like it was some sort of holy scripture. His eyes gleamed as he followed the text, his lips slightly moving. Dean hid a smile behind his own card, trying to focus on the choice of burgers the place offered. No one should have had that kind of enraptured look sitting in a diner with cheap formica tables and worn vinyl seats.

“Can I get your orders?” A waitress materialized next to their table moments later, the scent of waffles and coffee following her from the kitchen. Her tone was upbeat in a way you can only be when you’re trying to mask how much you wish you were still in bed.

Dean smiled at her, glancing at the menu for the last time. “Your burger of the week with fries for me. And coffee, black.” His stomach made an embarrassing sound at that, like a whole litter of very loud, hungry bear cubs trying to break free. Not awkward at all.

The waitress didn’t even blink, turning to Castiel. “And you?”

Cas was smirking. He’d definitely heard the hungry bear cubs. “I’ll have pancakes with maple syrup and strawberries. And also coffee. Actually, could you just leave us the whole pot?”

The waitress nodded, writing their orders down, and moved to the next table where a woman somewhere in her forties was nodding off over an emptied plate, her head propped on her hand.

“That’s it? No pickles? Mustard? Pork brains?” Dean joked, trying to wipe Castiel’s smirk off his face.

Cas raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “I didn’t know I’m not allowed to enjoy anything more common than pork brains.”

“I’m just saying.” Dean shrugged. “You painted quite a picture yesterday, and now you’re doing a poor job of living up to it.”

Anything Cas had to say in response to that was swallowed by his enormous yawn, cutting the conversation short.

They didn’t talk much after that, waiting for their orders to arrive. They were lulled by the sounds of soft music coming from the speakers, and the clinking of the plates from the kitchen. Exhaustion settled back in. Forming words and saying them out loud required too much mental effort. Cas kept himself occupied tracing a simple sigil etched in the table surface, his fingers moving slowly. From what Dean could tell it didn’t do anything interesting, just a careless scribble one of the patrons must’ve left at some point. Castiel’s fingers were still distracting though, enough to disturb Dean’s daydream about the memory foam mattress waiting for him at home. He ended up stealing glances of Cas, an affectionate warmth spreading through his chest every time.

To be honest, he had expected the fairy tale feel of last night to wear off by now. He’d been more surprised to wake up and find Cas as captivating as he’d seemed the previous evening than he would have been if Castiel had turned into a pumpkin or a glass shoe. The guy had his flaws, yet in a way he felt too perfect to be true. Dean was almost as embarrassed with himself as he had been when he first realized his giant crush on Indiana Jones.

Was this what it meant? Did he have a crush on Castiel? The word felt dumb in his mind; crushes were something that happened to teenagers. But there was no other explanation for the way he felt about a guy he’d met less than a day ago. And the actual scary part was that he didn’t want those feelings to pass. He wanted them to grow, and wanted a chance to figure out where this barely-formed thing could take them. Castiel not being on the same page would make him miserable. So maybe he _had_ avoided clearing things up with Cas after all. Why did he have to be such a fucking idiot about this?

Two coffees later Cas perked up a little. Dean could feel his own brain working again too, though he suspected he’d still fall asleep immediately if given a chance. Becoming a bit more awake had the unfortunate side effect of bringing a new wave of hunger, but his order arrived just in time. The sight of a burger with fries had never been as beautiful before this moment. He moaned as he sank his teeth into it, catching Cas’ pained expression right before he closed his eyes. Poor guy still didn’t get his pancakes.

“You can have a fry. _One_ fry.” Dean did his best to sound as generous as his full mouth allowed.

Cas sent him a death glare. “Remember what I told you yesterday about hexing people who piss me off?”

“Fine, you can have two fries.” Not that he was completely serious before about never getting on Cas’ bad side, but Castiel’s annoyance turned out to be too cute to even try.

“You are so close to eating worms for breakfast, Dean,” Castiel growled.

Dean just flashed him his brightest grin, but he was saved by a giant stack of pancakes finally making its way to Cas a few seconds later.

With their stomachs full, there was no other excuse to avoid talking about whatever they wanted to happen next. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but Dean’s mind was already playing out a very unhelpful scenario where Cas just laughed in his face, said it was a weird one-time thing, and left Dean to spend the whole time getting home alone with his thoughts and embarrassed like never before. Not to mention he’d left his car in front of the club, and they’d wandered around the city for hours, so he would need to make a hell of a detour before he could hide in his bed for the rest of eternity.

Oh right, the car.

“Shit, I still have to go back for my car and then pray not to fall asleep behind the wheel on my way home,” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. It was less than ideal in any scenario.

“You could nap at my place,” Cas suggested without looking at him, wiping maple syrup from his plate with the last strawberry piece.

Dean jerked his head up. “What?”

“It’s my fault we ended up sleeping in the park, it’s only natural for me to make it up to you somehow.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, man.” Dean wasn’t sure what else to say, but if anything, Cas offering to prolong the time they were spending together seemed like a good sign for the future. Maybe Dean could avoid a _what now_ conversation after all.

Cas put down his fork, looking Dean in the eyes. “I live just a few blocks away from here. You could take a nap and then I’d drive you back to the club.”

“I see you had more foresight than me not taking your car yesterday.”

“One of my friends dropped me off. They wanted to make sure I go inside.” Cas shrugged. “So?”

Dean just stared at Cas for a moment. Should he agree? “How do I know you’re not an axe murderer seducing your victims to lure them into your lair?”

“Do you feel seduced, Dean?” Castiel sounded amused, his eyes glinting. Shit, why did Dean have to say _seduced_ out loud? He was _not_ going to acknowledge it this early in the morning.

“How do you know _I’m_ not an axe murderer?”

Cas gave him the once-over. “I’m pretty sure I could handle you if you are.”

“Okay fine,” Dean raised his hands. “But if you do murder me I’m gonna haunt your ass.”

Cas was smirking again. Not a good sign. “Just make sure to use lube.”

Oh god. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m gonna nap right here, in this diner,” Dean grumbled, fully aware he was not going to nap in the diner.

The best way to describe Castiel’s apartment was controlled chaos. Mismatched furniture, a bunch of cat toys lying around, a broken lamp pasted together with tape, a few empty pizza boxes stacked on each other next to the trashcan. A potted plant spread its vines out all over the windowsill, propped up with something that looked suspiciously like a chopstick. Everything smelled like herbs and old parchment. The front door was covered in elaborate sigils, some of them crawling in swirls onto the walls around it. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, but the pattern here looked more complicated than anything Dean had ever seen, and he worked with sigils almost every day.

Cas seemed to know where everything was, moving between books stacked on the floor with grace achievable only after years of practice. Preparing his floral pull out for Dean took him only a couple of minutes, which Dean spent in an awkward staring contest with Cas’ gray, flat-faced cat.

“I think your cat is judging me,” he joked, sitting on the edge of the couch.

Cas sat next to him with a huff. “She just likes to know whether I’m in good hands.”

Dean licked his lips, hyperaware of their arms touching. “Are you?” A part of him wished they could sit even closer, even though there was already barely any space between them. The memory of almost kissing Cas in the park the previous night flashed through his mind. This felt similar, but… _more_ in a way.

“We’ll see.” Castiel smiled, his eye crinkles deepening. Maybe. Maybe he wanted this too.

Not hesitating anymore, Dean leaned towards Cas, his heart thudding so hard it seemed like it was trying to break free out of his chest, and pressed their lips together. Cas hummed in approval, cupping Dean’s neck with his hand. A pleasant warmth spread through Dean’s entire body. Somehow he didn’t think it was magic this time. The kiss deepened, Dean moving one of his hands to Castiel’s shoulder and Cas’ thumb stroking behind Dean’s ear. The relief of being touched this way after so long was almost overwhelming. Before he knew what was happening, they fell backwards and fully onto the couch, messing up the blankets Cas prepared for Dean.

Dean wished they never had to stop, which made pulling away even harder.

“Cas, wait. I’m not really interested in one-night stands,” he said, catching his breath. Looking Castiel in the eye took a lot of effort, but this was probably the last call to make things clear.

Cas squinted at him, his head surrounded by folds of bee-patterned sheets. “It’s the middle of the day.”

Dean groaned. “You know what I mean.” He braced himself for the possibility of incoming heartbreak.

“Yes. And good, me neither.”

The way Castiel said it, it sounded so obvious. All the barely acknowledged tension disappeared from Dean’s muscles leaving him… happy. So happy it made him light-headed. He was getting his chance with Cas, and it wasn’t seven minutes, it wasn’t one evening, it wasn’t even one day. It was however long they wanted it to be.   

“Oh. That’s. That’s awesome,” Dean mumbled, grinning like an idiot. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Cas propped himself up on one elbow, hair sticking out in all directions. “Since we’re talking, as much I would love to continue, I think it would be best to postpone this a few hours. I don’t want to fall asleep on you.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time Dean had sex while sleep deprived, but he had to admit, it had never been the best idea. It wasn’t how he wanted things to go with Cas, and they had time.

He hoped Castiel would stay with him on the couch, though. Too much time had passed since he had someone he could just fall asleep with, and he didn't want to wait any longer. Not when Cas was right there.

“You know what, I think I’m into nap dates,” he said, brushing his hand through Cas’ hair, and stealing a short kiss. God, it felt so good to be able to do this.

Cas raised an eyebrow. “So this is a date now?”

“Did it ever stop being one?” Dean laughed, thinking back to his question from last night whether they were on a date or not. Neither of them could tell for sure back then.

“Fair point,” Cas agreed, leaning over Dean to kiss him again.

They fell asleep tangled together, Dean stroking Cas’ hair and Cas hogging all the sheets. It was much better than the night in the park. Not only because they didn’t have to lie on the ground, but also because whatever happened next, Dean knew Castiel was sticking with him.

When Dean woke up, hours later, there was one new message blinking at him from the screen of his phone. From Charlie. It said _hey, what’s with the radio silence? did you find a match?_

Cas shifted next to him, murmuring something in his sleep. Dean smiled to himself. Yes, he had. He’d definitely found a match.

 


End file.
